


Making Chaos

by intotheruins



Series: Autistic Castiel Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Castiel, M/M, Season 9, Supportive Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: Dean has a surprise for Castiel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this anon prompt on tumblr: I loved your autistic!cas piece! So, here is a somewhat unoriginal prompt: would you mind writing a sequel to that or maybe just another one set in that verse?

Dean's room was frustrating.

With a sigh, Castiel slumped into a cross-legged position in the center of Dean's unmade bed. The pile of sheets and blankets didn't bother him—it was a chaos associated with sex, and sex was a good sort of chaos. The loose nest he'd formed smelled of sweat and Dean and himself, and it was one of the most comforting places in the bunker. Paired with the soft, loose sweats he wore, the environment should have been perfect.

The problem was Dean's room was too... well, he wasn't sure. The swords on the wall were well balanced, placed in descending order. The pictures on the nightstand had been a little scattered, but he'd fixed those, placed them in threes with a half an inch separating each one. Dean had seen that when he'd gotten up half an hour ago. He'd chuckled, shook his head, and left them exactly where they were.

Maybe the problem was that there wasn't enough in Dean's room to make a mess of, to fix.

The door was open. Castiel stared out into the hall, eyes falling half-closed as he willed Dean to reappear with coffee. It was possible the coffee would make him forget, or at least distract him. Especially if Dean made it just right, with one spoonful of sugar and a tablespoon of cream. He didn't like cream when he was an angel, but as a human he found he needed to cut the bitterness of coffee to enjoy it.

After what might have been a year, but was probably more like five minutes, Dean came in with two mugs. His own was plain and brown, while Castiel's was a forest green. It was larger at the base, bulb-like, and narrowed down to a perfect circle at the top. There was a stylized leaf carved into the ceramic on one side. The swirls added to the wispy ends of the leaf pleased Castiel—when he found the cup in a second hand store in town, he lost twenty minutes imagining he was sliding down the swirls, that they came alive when he reached the tips and tossed him up to the next one.

Castiel blinked, and found Dean sitting in front of him, legs crossed and Castiel's mug balanced on his knee while he sipped from his own.

“You back?” Dean asked.

It would have been so easy for Dean to be irritated, but the question was casual, spoken quietly. He grinned when Castiel nodded, and handed him the mug.

“Got a surprise for you,” Dean said. He bounced a little, grin widening—Castiel couldn't help but think that he looked like an excited little boy. “But you can drink your coffee first.”

Castiel traced a fingertip over the leaf. He took a sip, and it was just right. He smiled at Dean over the rim just to watch him flush. There was something ridiculously pleasing about Dean's cheeks going warm and rosy, especially when he ducked his head and looked up at Castiel through those thick lashes.

“I'm not sure I like surprises,” Castiel said after a moment. His coffee was already half gone.

Dean shrugged. “Wanna find out? I can tell you if you really want.”

Castiel bent to peer into his cup. He couldn't quite see his own reflection in the liquid, so he didn't bother frowning at himself. “Let's find out.”

He drained the last of the coffee and slid out of bed. Thought about grabbing a shirt, but it was warm, so he just put on his socks. They were important—too many sensations could stick to his feet, and the bunker floor always seemed to be cold.

Dean led him out to the garage. Three of the cars had been moved to clear a large space, and that space was filled with apparently random objects—a bookshelf, empty. Piles and piles of books, from paperbacks with creased spines to shiny-new hardcovers. Tin coffee cans filled with nuts and bolts and screws of all sizes. Sets of drawers, some long and shallow, a few only a couple of inches in length. Broken clay pots. Plastic flowers. A musty-smelling cardboard box, filled to the brim with figurines of all sorts. Bottles of glue, five different kinds of tape. A small plastic container filled with pictures.

It was a disaster. It was perfect.

“So, this whole space.” Dean waved an arm out in an arc, indicating the corner he'd cleared and a large portion of the floor. “And all this stuff, you can do whatever the hell you want with it. Stick stuff on the ceiling if you want to. Break shit, put it back together, fill the bookshelf and pull the whole thing down. Whatever. Make chaos and fix it.” Dean shrugged, head ducked and an uncertain, crooked smile quirked along one side of his mouth. “This is stupid, isn't it?”

“No,” Castiel said hoarsely. He took Dean's face in both hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “It's amazing.”

He lingered long enough to watch Dean's smile fully blossom, and to press another kiss to it.

Then he flung himself down on the floor and upended the nearest coffee tin. The crash of so much metal hitting the concrete was oddly satisfying, made better by Dean's surprised laughter.

“Can I help?” Dean asked, coming to sit cross-legged beside Cas.

“No.” Castiel began carefully picking out short screws from the mess. “But I don't mind if you stay.”

Dean did, for a while. He leaned their shoulders firmly together and watched Castiel sort out short screws, then bolts, and then got bored and left (though not before pressing a kiss into Castiel's hair).

He was there when Castiel finally dragged himself to their room, welcoming Castiel into bed with the same enthusiasm as usual, and Castiel couldn't help but be awed by that. There was nothing wrong with his quirks, and he knew that, but he also knew it wasn't considered normal. That it wouldn't have been unusual for Dean to react strangely.

But of course he didn't. He was Dean, and even if he didn't understand, he _tried._

And Castiel loved him for that.

 


End file.
